


litany in which certain things are crossed out

by and_hera



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: A little angst, Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, Character Study, Domestic, F/M, Fuck King Falls AM Creators, Inspired by Richard Siken, Musings on Jack Wright, emily calls sammy a bitch guys, i don't think i've ever seen an emily character study, it's great, so i did one myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24246889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_hera/pseuds/and_hera
Summary: Emily has always loved stories. When she was a kid, when she was a reader dreaming about her own tale of wishes and woes, she thought that maybe someone would read her story and understand her in a way that no one else ever has. Emily Potter is made of words and misunderstandings and assumptions, and above all, kindness.or, Emily Potter loves stories and maybe she isn't supposed to exist, but she isn't about to let that stop her.
Relationships: Ben Arnold & Emily Potter & Sammy Stevens, Ben Arnold & Sammy Stevens, Ben Arnold/Emily Potter, Emily Potter & Sammy Stevens, Sammy Stevens & Lily Wright
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	litany in which certain things are crossed out

**Author's Note:**

> "it's gay af for the kfam writers to be basing emily's arcs around men when her phat ass is out like that" -anna 2k20  
> yeah this is written because i love emily and she has been done so dirty in canon.. where are her arcs that arent about men?? where??? so i wrote this!  
> i have never watched buffy the vampire slayer but theo helped me thank u theo  
> quotes throughout this are all from the poem with the same title as this fic, "litany in which certain things are crossed out," by richard siken bc it's all about writing stories and i'm gay  
> enjoy!

**Every morning another chapter where the hero**

**shifts** **from one foot to the other.** **Every morning the same big**

 **and little words all spelling out desire, all** **spelling out**

_**You will be alone always and then you will die.** _

Emily Potter has always been an odd one. 

Or, at least, that’s what her mother said to her, and her teachers in elementary school, since she was a kid with her eyes down, her nose in a book. Looking back, she might not have been that odd, but it wasn’t like she would have complained- the odd ones were always the ones with adventures in her novels she spent all her time with. Emily has always been fond of stories.

She’s never been alone, though. Her mother and father were good people, and even though they never quite understood her, she got along with them just fine. They raised her, and loved her, and she loved them. It was a good childhood; pretending to be a witch in the woods with a stick, climbing trees so she was tall enough to be flying, books and things. Figuring out early on she wasn’t quite made for her own body, her parents not quite getting it but letting her be herself anyway. A good childhood. Emily knows she is lucky to have had this.

Then again, it was never like anyone understood. Emily Potter is an enigma, a golden child, valedictorian, so goddamn confused. She came to school the first day of ninth grade in a skirt and a new name and, surprisingly, it wasn’t talked about that much. Everyone loved Emily in high school. She got the grades and didn’t date anyone until college and had few good friends to speak of, but she got the grades. She was a sweet person. She’s always been a sweet person. 

Being kind is something reliable, something to be used as a weapon, in her mind, and not just in a “kill them with kindness” type of way. Something like “I’m a nice person, you can tell me your secrets” and “I’m a nice person, don’t feel uncomfortable around me” and “I’m a nice person, my heart is good and strong and I know so much about you that I could ruin your life, probably”.

Not that Emily would. She wouldn’t ruin anyone’s life on purpose, she doesn’t think. But then again, she’s always felt secure in the knowledge that she _could_ , if worst comes to worst, so maybe she isn’t as good a person as she likes to pretend.

Emily Potter has a library and she loves it, just as she loves all learning. Knowledge is important to her, so being able to have a place that brings knowledge to others and to herself is wonderful, really. She’ll spend days there, looking at books, reorganizing, learning. 

Emily has always loved stories. When she was a kid, when she was a reader dreaming about her own tale of wishes and woes, she thought that maybe someone would read her story and understand her in a way that no one else ever has. Emily Potter is made of words and misunderstandings and assumptions, and above all, kindness. 

Emily is also tall. She used to hate her height, wanted to be short or even average like all other girls were, because being tall was standing out. Of course, there is part of her has always wanted to stand out, because she has wanted nothing more than to be a protagonist in her own story, but she didn’t want to stand out _physically_ , because that wasn’t cool. That was scary. 

She’s alright with it now, because there isn’t anything she can really do about it. And it also gives her a solid seven inches on one Ben Arnold. 

Ben Arnold. Benjamin, Benny, Ben. The boy she listened to on the radio for two weeks before walking into the station and getting a face to the voice. He’s short, and she knows that it’s because he’s trans as well, but it gives her opportunities to lean on his beanie that’s perpetually falling off and use him as an armrest. It’s nice. Even before Emily really liked him like _that_ (well, at least before she realized that she liked him like that), they always shared a level of solidarity. Emily is taller than most girls and Ben is shorter than most boys and they’re okay!

Ben Arnold, the man she loves, the man it took her years to realize she loves. Or, rather, the man it took her years to reach after she realized she loved him. If she is the One, if she is the body, Ben is the heart.

That’s the thing about their little group, the Prophecy four. None of them can exist without the others. What is a body without a heart, without strength, without protection? What is strength without an outlet? What is protection without anyone to protect? What is a heart without people to love?

Emily Potter has always been an odd one. She didn’t belong in her body for so long; she’s never been able to word exactly how she feels in a way that people understand. Until now, she supposes, because even if she doesn’t know how to make people understand her words, she is surrounded by people who understand _her_.

Someone understanding her. What a concept.

And she’s writing her own story, because why wait for a stupid book to tell her where’s she’s going? Why stick around for fate?

Emily Potter is writing her own story, and she’s determined to make it a good one.

**You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?**

“I still hate having to translate this,” Lily says, her voice half-serious. “It’s just so fucking stupid. Why does it have to be in, like, the worst language ever? Why couldn’t they put it in like, French?”

“What did French ever do to you?” Ben asks, eyes squinting at the photocopied page he chose to try and decipher.

“I took it for eight years because in fifth grade I thought it was cooler than Spanish and it was also the only other language my school offered. And then I kind of had to take it in high school. It’s the fucking worst.”

Emily laughs. “I’m sure it isn’t _that_ bad.”

Lily rolls her eyes, flipping pages of _Death by Damnation_ back and forth without bothering to try and read them. “You don’t get to say that until you’ve sat in a classroom with twenty other Catholic girls in skirts and at least two crucifixes on the wall learning exactly how many vowels one country can fit into a word.”

Sammy sighs, dramatically. “We all know that Catholic school was traumatizing for you, Lillian. You only talk about it all the time. Can we _please_ just work on translat-”

“Shut up, Shotgun, I’m allowed to talk about the main source for like, everything about me. Christianity is a strange and beautiful concept, and I’m pretty sure Catholic uniform skirts contributed to the general repression of my sexuality for all of high school. Leave me alone.”

Ben snorts. “Are you implying that Catholicism made you a lesbian?”

“Religious trauma is a powerful thing, Benny.”

“Ben.”

Lily grins, her smile sharp and bright. “Whatever you say, dude.”

“Can we _please_ get to translating? I know it’s horrible demon language or whatever the fuck but we have a sort-of key now and Ben and I have work in like an hour and a half, let’s get star-”

Lily slaps a hand over Sammy’s mouth. “We’re getting there, fucker. Let me monologue.”

Sammy licks her palm and Lily doesn’t even flinch. Emily admires her strength.

Ben, decidedly ignoring them: “Does this symbol mean “destroy” or “protect”? They look weirdly similar.”

Emily, checking their sheet and taking the photocopy: “Hm. I think protect. See the little tail on it, just there?”

Sammy, finally breaking away from Lily: “Not protect again. We’ve gotten protect or protection or protector like, twenty times these last few pages. You’d think _Death by Damnation_ is sponsored by Trojan Condoms.”

Ben, scrunching up his nose: “Really, Sammy? Really?”

Lily, putting up her middle finger and holding it to Sammy’s face without bothering to actually look at him: “Why do you speak.”

“I’m a delight to be around.”

Ben grins. “Yes, you are,” he says, and leans over to hug Sammy’s arm in a way that is only half serious and yet completely heartfelt.

Sammy rolls his eyes in a very Sammy way and ruffles Ben’s hair, ignoring the protests. “Whatever. You know, you can’t always turn my sarcastic remarks into love, _Benny_.”

Ben sticks his middle finger up and joins Lily in holding it up to Sammy’s nose. He also does not stop hugging Sammy’s arm.

Emily watches, smiling softly to herself. They’re sitting on the floor in a circle with books and photocopies and papers and mess in the center, and her knee is pressed against Ben’s, and her hair is tied back with Lily’s hair tie, and she’s meeting Sammy’s eyes and laughing at his predicament. Emily is watching it all and she is content.

She glances at her notes, and she notices something.

“Guys,” she says, brushing her fingers on the photocopied page of the book. “Sammy was right.”

Ben gives her a Look. “About the condoms?”

“No,” Emily says. “About “protect” being on all the pages. Like, this page, page four, is full of protect- or, protector? So is page three. Do you think they’re- they’re all about the same thing? Maybe other pages have the same thing.”

Lily hums. “I mean, maybe. We know there’s some weird prophecy tied into this. The One, or whatever, and the stupid fucking ‘name of a flower brings strength and power’ or some dumb shit. Who knows.”

“Can I see the paper, Em?” Ben asks, unlatching himself from Sammy, and Emily hands the page to him. He clicks his tongue as he reads, touching the “protect” symbols as he goes, and Emily knows he’ll pick up what she’s putting down.

“You don’t think,” Sammy says tentatively, “that there are more? Like, the One is obviously important, and Lily is some fucking powerful force, somehow-”

“Don’t act like you don’t love all my _strength_ , Stevens-”

“I just wonder if it’s something like that. Maybe if we look through more of the pages, translate more, we can figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Ben replies slowly. “This page is just- _full_ of protection. Maybe it’s significant.”

Lily groans. “Okay, like, this is super important and shit, I get it,” she says, “but I genuinely cannot hear the word protection without thinking of condoms. Fuck you, Sammy.”

Sammy laughs, genuinely happy despite whatever dark secret they’ve stumbled onto this time, and Emily is grinning. Ben is not, his nose still stuck in whatever secret he is learning about. “Em,” he says, “what if one is the Protector?”

“Well, Ben,” Sammy says, “I think the One is an entirely different thing than the Protector or whatever the fuc-”

“Shut up, that’s not what I meant. The One, whatever Lily is, and the Protector.”

Emily tilts her head. “I think that means we’re one short, Benny.”

Lily points at Emily. “That was a good one.”

“I- I didn’t even mean that to be a short joke, but thank you, Lils.”

Ben makes a noise that Emily doesn’t think she could describe if she was forced to, but it’s something like frustration mixed with a lack of sleep. “I know, I’m tiny, we get it. The _point_ is-”

“We’re figuring it out,” Emily finishes, and Ben looks at her with something like appreciation in his eyes. “Even if we aren’t deciphering every part of the book. We’re catching on.”

Lily sighs. “Yes, that’s true, I guess. We’re getting there.”

“We have to get it done faster,” Sammy says, serious as usual. Well, no, Emily muses, because he’s rarely serious on the air or in public, always joking and putting on a face. Emily thinks he must let all of his worry for Jack come out during their meetings. “We don’t know what kind of time frame we’re running on-”

“We know,” Ben says. “We all know, I promise. We’re trying to get Jack back just as much as you, Sammy.”

Sammy sighs. “Sorry. I just-”

Lily puts her hand on Sammy’s arm. “Shut up, yeah? Let’s keep translating. We’ve got an hour until you and Ben have to go to work.”

Sammy smiles. “Alright.”

Emily knows she’s unwritten. She knows she’s not supposed to be here. But if she’s a writer of her own story, now, she doesn’t think she would choose to be anywhere else.

**I’m not the dragon.**

**I’m not the princess either.**

**Who am I? I’m just a writer. I write things down.**

**I walk through your dreams and invent the future.**

Emily Potter is unwritten, this is a fact, this is known. She is aware that she should not exist. She is slowly coming to terms with this.

To be completely honest, it isn’t as horrible as you would expect. Because, really, Emily doesn’t mind having her story written down yet. It hasn’t happened yet! She isn’t sure she would want someone to know her ending before she does.

Emily Potter should not exist in this world anymore and she is the One of a prophecy to bring Sammy Stevens’s fiance home, to bring Lily Wright’s brother home. Home, their real home, not the place Jack Wright thinks he is. 

Emily didn’t think this is what it would be like; she didn’t know being a heroine of a story would entail this much pain and this much happiness and this much trauma. In all regards, it’s what she should have expected. But somehow she clung to childhood and stories with her fingernails and she thought she would still be kind in the end of it all.

Well, Emily is still kind, she thinks. She is the nice one of their group, versus Sammy’s repression and Ben’s enthusiasm and Lily’s bitchiness. She tries to be kind, if not for the sake of being kind, but because people trust her and they will give her information because she’s a sweet young lady who is just interested in information. The thing is, she isn’t sure if it still counts as kindness, then.

No matter. It works, doesn’t it? And they’re going to get Jack back, right?

In her many stories, in the many tales Emily has read, there are set roles. There is the hero. There is the damsel in distress. There is the dragon, keeping the damsel in distress locked in her tower. There are the kings and queens, sitting on their thrones and doing nothing. In the best stories, these tropes are taken and turned upside down, with a dragon being the hero and the hero being corrupt or something like that. But there is always a hero, there is always a dragon.

Emily has often wondered who she is in her own story.

Because really, she should be a damsel. A princess locked up in a tower. So much of her life has been spent being saved by other people. She was taken by the rainbow lights and Ben saved her, she was taken by Greg and Ben saved her. She has had her triumphs, yes, her victories against the people who have hurt her, but so much of her life is intertwined with Ben, with Greg, with everyone else.

Sometimes, Emily wonders if she is made to just be a damsel. Because as much as she wants to be a hero, it seems like she can’t lead the charge.

But no, she has won some things. She beat the Himinists, of course, even if it was a hollow victory. She is the One, the Unwritten One, and she is going to get Jack Wright back from the Void and everyone else taken by it. Emily Potter is a force to be reckoned with.

Emily Potter is a hero, in all regards. The hero is sometimes saved, isn’t she? Isn’t there always a moment when all is lost, when everything is horrible and unable to be fixed, and then there is a miraculous recovery from a friend? She is allowed to be helped. She doesn’t have to do it alone, even if she thinks she ought to.

Stories, stories, stories. That’s what it all comes back to, for her. Learning and fantasies and magic and love. Love, in the end, always saves the day. Ben saved her. Sammy will save Jack. Love and love and love.

Emily wonders if she’ll ever get a chance to use her own love, her knowledge, her ever-watching eyes taking in the scene to save the day.

She ought to. She’s the One, right?

**Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live?**

Ben Arnold is something interesting.

Of course, so is Emily Potter. They are both strong. But Ben’s strength comes in a different way than Emily’s does, comes from his terribly beautiful love, while Emily’s comes from her mind, from her stories. Emily is busy writing her own story, no matter how long it takes, but Ben doesn’t mind that his is already written. He’s determined to love everyone in it.

Emily knows that most people don’t love as loudly as Ben does, and she knows most people don’t love as strangely as she does. Ben shows his love in shouting, in declarations in front of crowds, in texts every few hours reaffirming his feelings. Emily shows her love in a much quieter way, because for her, love doesn’t have to be shouted.

The thing about loving Ben Arnold is that she knows him and he knows her. He doesn’t shout about her on air all the time, because he knows she has… bad experiences with being spoken about on the radio. She opens herself up a bit, she tells him that she loves him when they’re on the couch watching _Buffy_ before he goes to work. They are very different people and they love very differently but somehow they love the same.

“You know,” Ben says one night, “you and Buffy are both prophecy girls.”

“A high compliment,” Emily says. “Who does that make you? Definitely not Angel.”

“Oh, hell no,” Ben says, and Emily laughs at how taken aback he looks. “That bitch who is _way_ too old for her and _broody_ and _angsty_? How dare you even mention him!”

“Okay, _Danny Zuko_ ,” she says, but then she considers. “But really, who would you be in this situation? Maybe Willow?”

“I’m actually okay with that,” Ben says thoughtfully, “as long as we’re talking about like, early seasons Willow, before she kind of goes insane and whatnot.”

“Understandable,” Emily replies. 

“If I’m sort-of Willow and you’re Buffy, does that make Sammy Xander?”

Emily hums. “Lily can be Cordelia, I think, too.”

“Sans the romance.”

“Sans the romance.”

Emily takes Ben’s hand, plays with his fingers. “Do you ever think about stories?” she asks. “Like, how we’re literally in the middle of a prophecy?”

“Like _Buffy_?”

“Like _Buffy_.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he says. “You’re the smart one, though. The librarian. The, as Lily so aptly puts it, _producer I could only dream to be_. I’m just trying to not let something kill any of us before we get Jack out of the Void.”

“You say these things like you don’t taunt the powers that be at any given second, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well, I can be mean to Grisham and also want to protect us.”

“Isn’t that Sammy’s job?”

Ben smiles, but then he sighs in a way that Emily knows means worry. “It’s just,” he says, “everyone has such concrete jobs except for me. Sammy protects us. Lily is the strength. You’re the fucking _One_. What am I supposed to do? Love people until they die?”

“Hey,” Emily says quietly, “don’t say that. I think the Heart is arguably the most important part, Ben.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know, love is the answer, insert that sweet monologue Jack Wright gave and that made Sammy incapable of speech for a while after he heard it again.” He stops. “No, that was mean. I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. It’s just-”

“Hard,” Emily says, “and I know. I _know_ you, Benny.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Emily leans into him, holds his hand firmly. “You’re funny and smart and talented and the most cluttered person I know and above all, good. You love so loudly, Ben, and it’s the best part about you.”

“Because I’m the Heart.”

“No. You aren’t good because you’re the Heart, you’re the Heart because you’re good. There’s a difference.”

Ben shrugs. “I love you,” he says, and Emily doesn’t understand how he can mean it as much as he does every time he says it. “I’m sorry I’m being pessimistic. It just doesn’t make sense. What good do I have?”

“You saved me!”

“Yeah, and you didn’t remember me.”

“Well, I certainly do now.”

“I know, I know. I just feel like all I can do is love people and save the day a few days too late. Apparently nothing else about me is important, you know?”

Emily looks him in the eyes. “I do know,” she says, and waits for him to realize what she means.

Ben blinks. “What do you mean?” he asks. “You’re _badass_ and so smart and talented at literally everything and the best person ever-”

“And above everything else, I’m _nice_ ,” Emily says. “I’ll never be able to escape the fact that I’m nice. There’s nothing wrong with being nice, of course. It’s just that everything that’s ever happened to me that I’ve accomplished is just about someone else.”

Ben opens his mouth, closes it. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t apologize, love,” she says, “I don’t mean it like that. I just mean that I feel the same way. And you don’t think I’m unimportant, right?”

Immediate: “No.”

“Then you shouldn’t feel unimportant either. Cronkite. Brokaw. Ben Arnold. Making your dreams come true.”

Ben says softly, “I don’t know if that’s even an option, anymore. Being a radio producer like that. So much has happened. I don’t know if I can go back.”

“Then,” Emily replies, “we’ll find your new dream together, yeah?”

Ben kisses her. “Yeah.”

**Actually, you said** **_Love, for you,_ **

**_is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s_ **

**_terrifying._ **

Love is a complicated thing.

Emily Potter was- is- loved by her parents. They cared about her. They helped her transition, they accepted her. They did not understand her, not really, but they loved her, and what more can someone ask from their parents?

She doesn’t talk to them much, now. She calls them sometimes, of course, but living away means she doesn’t think about them often. Emily’s home was not bad, but it was simply a place made for leaving.

They, as so many parents do, shaped the way Emily loves, kind of. She loves in a quiet way. She leaves kisses on foreheads when she inevitably wakes up first and has to get ready for work. She makes breakfast and leaves a plate out. She imagines stories in her head where she is the hero and they are in love interest and never voices them outloud.

Emily has dated many boys in her life, and has dated a few girls as well, and very few of them have understood how she loves.

So many people don’t understand the small things, because in high school, small details aren’t what make a relationship. It’s about having sex and making out and tangible things. In college, it isn’t that much different, either. It’s about things you can hold, things you can touch, and Emily has never felt very present in her own body, anyway.

So, Emily’s relationships, varied and few, usually didn’t end as well as she would have hoped.

Regarding Ben Arnold:

He is alive, always. He is loud and bright and full of happiness and energy. He’s so full of life that it overflows; it’s as if a child was coloring him in and a bright blue crayon of love spilled over the lines. He is a mess of a person who desperately needs to love someone.

Ben is the Heart. It makes sense, of course. It was never even a question. He’s a hero in his own right, but he does it all with love. 

She heard him on the radio, talking and bright and funny, and she thought the way he stammered was cute. She thought she would have liked to know him in high school. She was still brand new to King Falls, and despite the town only being a mile from Big Pine, things were very different.

Emily heard Ben on the radio and imagined becoming friends with him and Sammy, since she had been in King Falls for a few weeks and hadn’t met too many people her age. Everyone was nice, of course, but no one seemed to like the role of librarian too much. She was fine on her own, but it’s always nice to have a friend.

And she met Ben, and it was wonderful. He was wonderful and sweet and awkward in all the right ways.

It was love. She loves him, of course. They love in very different ways.

Ben is so loud with his love. He loves people and he loves people and he shouts about it because he wants people to know. No one ever told him how to use his indoor voice. No one ever told him that love doesn’t have to be all or nothing. No one ever told him that it’s okay if the whole world doesn’t love him.

So, he makes it his goal to win the entire world over. Cronkite. Brokaw. Ben Arnold.

Emily has never been that kind of person, but it’s okay, because it’s love, anyway. She is the quiet one, she listens to Ben ramble about the latest thing he has spent a few hours researching instead of planning out a show, she allows herself to ramble about the latest novel she read and how it took concepts that are classic and flipped them on their heads in a very satisfying way. Back and forth. Love and love.

Emily makes breakfasts at midnight the nights Ben stays over and helps Sammy the nights she stays over. Emily kisses Ben on the forehead when she inevitably wakes up before him, despite not being the one who works from two to six a.m. She thinks about red eyes and shadows with too-long fingers and Ben taking her hand and dragging her from the white room and into the dark field. She thinks about stories and how she’s in the middle of her own, and this time, she has the pen.

She picks a blue ink because Ben is blue to her, the blue crayon spilling outside the lines, too-tall emotions. She picks a blue ink and writes her story out, writes her every motion, and she knows she is winning, because everything she does is new. Every action of Emily Potter is something to be reckoned with.

Her love is quiet and soft and writing and Ben declares his love on the air and she appreciates it, she does. It’s new, though, and she has to learn it, learn him. Emily Potter loves Ben Arnold, and she _knows_ him in a way that she isn’t sure many others do, the exception being Sammy Stevens. Ben, in turn, _knows_ her. But she is still mapping him out, learning his hidden corners and inner thoughts. Emily has always loved learning. Emily has always loved stories.

She hopes her story, the one with the blue ink, won’t end with the world on fire.

**I never liked that ending either. More love streaming out the wrong way**

Emily calls in to King Falls AM, 660 on the radio dial, just about every night.

It helps her and it helps Ben, she knows, because even though hearing her on the radio certainly brings up memories of times when she was snatched on air, it’s better to hear from her than to not. And she likes to talk to him while he’s on the air, because it’s when he’s most _alive_.

Emily punches the numbers into her phone without even thinking. She waits on the line.

“You’re live on King Falls AM,” Sammy says a few minutes later, and she smiles.

“Hey, guys!”

“Emily!” Ben says, voice light, and she’s glad he’s in a good mood. “Everything okay?”

Emily laughs. “Yes, everything is fine, sweetheart. I’m just calling to say hi!”

“The _lovely_ Miss Emily Potter, folks,” Sammy says with a level of grandeur she still doesn’t think she deserves. 

“Is that really my title now?” she asks, mostly rhetorically, because she knows it is. “Not that I’m complaining, I enjoy being called lovely once a night when I call. But still. You call me lovely once the first night I show up and I guess it sticks, huh, Shotgun?”

“Well, I think you’re lovely every time I look at you, Em,” Ben says, voice three parts joking, one part serious.

She shakes her head, not that they can see her. “I appreciate it. I think you’re lovely too, Benny.”

Sammy sighs dramatically, as he always does. “I am just sitting here.”

Emily laughs. “Oh, Sammy, you know I think you’re lovely as well. Maybe not in the same way as I think Ben is lovely-”

“Oh, I sure hope not-”

“But lovely all the same.”

“Well, Emily,” Sammy says, a smile in his voice, “you know I do think you’re wonderful. Certainly not in the way that Ben does-”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, _Shotgun_ , but keep it PG.” Ben is probably sitting in his spinny chair that he _needed_ when they rebuilt the station, feet propped up on the board, spinning back and forth just a few inches. Emily can see him in her mind, and she wishes she were there. 

“I’m not implying anything! Just that I am not head over heels for Emily like you, _Benny_!”

“Ben, and I’m pretty sure that’s a given, Sammy.”

“King Falls,” Emily says, voice light, “I’m sorry we have to subject you to the same conversation every night. Hi. How are you? How are things? Give us a call at 424-279-3858, and the boys will talk to you soon enough.”

“Whoa-kay,” Ben says loudly, because he says everything loudly. “Emily, you know I love you-”

“I do.”

“But we have got this! It’s our show!”

“To be fair, Ben,” Sammy says, voice appropriately chagrined, “we do have the same conversation every night. Yes, I’m very clearly not attracted to Emily. I am not attracted to women. Cue laughter.”

Emily can picture Ben crossing his arms. He sighs. “Yeah, okay, true. It’s still funny, though.”

“Is it? Is it really?”

“Okay, but I was serious,” Emily says. “How has the show been? I’ve been working- on _library_ stuff, not the… other thing- and I haven’t been paying attention until I called in. I know it’s only been an hour, but.”

“Well, knock on wood,” Sammy says, and Emily hears said knock over the line, “but it’s been surprisingly nice tonight. Mary called in earlier to let everyone know the state of Tim’s position as a Deputy being finalized soon, and… well, we had a call that you don’t need to worry about-”

“Wait,” Emily says, and she doesn’t think Sammy is actually worried about it, so she teases him. “Ben, who called? Was it the Dirt, the Dark, or Doyle?”

“Nice band name,” Sammy says quietly.

“It was the Dark,” Ben clarifies, “and no, that’s definitely not your best.”

“But the alliteration!”

“Did he ziptie the _victim_ of a mugging again?” Emily asks, voice sympathetic. “It’s such an easy mistake to make.”

“Emily,” Sammy says, voice verging on desperate, “you gave him a black eye. Tell me how you did it. I need your wisdom.”

Emily shrugs. “Dunno. Being the One has its perks, I guess!”

Sammy groans. “I’m the protector! Shouldn’t I get to, I don’t know, do some cool shit? I think I deserve to punch the Dark in the face.”

“Do you really hate him that much?” Ben asks, sounding genuinely curious.

Sammy sighs again. “I don’t _hate_ him, per se,” he says, “I just think he’s the worst. Big difference.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You know,” Emily says, “Sammy really does need a stupid rivalry, doesn’t he?”

Ben stammers before deciding on a “I don’t follow.”

“I beg you to not continue,” Sammy says.

“It’s just,” Emily begins, grinning, “you always have a petty fight with someone, don’t you? Like, for a while it was Grisham until that actually became like, regular, valid anger. You’re always kind of annoyed with Doyle, and the Dirt, too. Then it was Lily, but now you’ve worked it out and you’re back to being basically siblings.” Sammy stammers disagreement as Emily speaks, but she steamrolls over him. “And now it’s the Dark. You always hated him, but now you’ve decided to focus all your… well, there’s a word but I won’t use it for your sake, Sammy-”

“No, please, Emily,” Ben says gleefully, “continue.”

“Let me know how you really feel, Miss Potter,” Sammy says, defeated.

Emily pauses before continuing. “Well, for lack of a better word, your general bitchiness, Sammy.”

A beat.

“Did- did you just call me a bitch?” Sammy asks, sounding rather aghast.

“Maybe so,” Emily replies.

“Emily, I am literally in love with you,” Ben says.

“Well, I sure hope so,” Emily replies. “Sammy, I’m sorry, you know I love you! You’re just… so judgy! And petty! All the time! It’s spectacular to watch, really.”

“I don’t know how to come back from this one,” Sammy says. “Emily Potter called me a bitch. Like, when Ben called me a little bitch, it was just funny, because he’s literally five three. But Emily?”

“First of all, fuck you,” Ben says, and Emily laughs out loud. “Second of all, you deserve it, Stevens. She’s right. You _are_ petty.”

“I hate it here,” Sammy says.

“We love you!” Emily says.

“Yeah, yeah. Ben, get off me, you specifically got spinny chairs with the new station, you might as well use them. I love you too. Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Ben teases, and then immediately shrieks something about Sammy messing with his hair.

“Emily,” Sammy says, voice bright in a way that just a few months ago Emily feared it never would be again, “did you have a reason to call in besides saying hi?”

“For once, no,” she says. “It was just to say hi to my favorite boys.”

“One more favorite than the other?” Ben asks, fishing for a compliment.

Emily rolls her eyes. “I love you in different ways, Benny.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Well then, with that,” Sammy says, “we should probably cut to commercial, since we had one scheduled a minute ago.”

“Shit,” Ben says. “Yeah. Sorry, Em, I’ll talk to you soon-”

“Yeah! I should go to sleep, anyway,” she replies. “I love you, sweetheart. Talk to you tomorrow- or, today, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Ben says, voice full of love, and she wishes she could kiss him.

“Goodnight, Emily,” Sammy says, and she wishes she could squeeze his hand.

“Goodnight!” she says instead, and she hangs up the phone.

**_love love_ ** **or whatever, take a number, I’m sorry**

**it’s such a lousy story.**

You would think that driving a car would be the least of Emily’s problems, after all that. But her hands are shaking and her eyes are watering and she keeps wanting to look back at Sammy, look back at Lily, make sure they are okay.

They aren’t okay, of course. How could they be okay? After that? Jack Wright was there, on the air, but he wasn’t, and everything was wrong. Everything was wrong and the light Sammy had been regaining and the hope he had been rebuilding seems to have crumbled with one solid kick to the base from his fiance asking him to _come home_. Lily was okay but her brother was on the radio saying that he will leave her behind again in a heartbeat.

Lily always hates being left behind. Emily knows. She has to be a part of things, whether it’s just planning a surprise birthday party for Sammy or memorizing pages of _Death by Damnation_. She hates being left behind and her brother, once again, has decided she isn’t worth keeping around.

Emily doesn’t think it was Jack, for what it’s worth. Well, that’s not exactly right. She _knows_ it wasn’t Jack Wright who was speaking to them tonight. It was the Shadow Maker, or Shadow Maker adjacent, taking control of his voice and making him believe he is someone- something- else.

But Sammy and Lily aren’t exactly in the best mood, so she doesn’t say it. She drives, and ignores her shaking hands, and doesn’t look at Sammy and Lily’s tear stained cheeks. The roads are empty right now anyway.

On the radio plays static and decidedly not 660 on the dial. Ben is in the front seat next to her and he turned on an empty channel, and she is glad he did. Emily isn’t sure what she would hear on their station, but she doesn’t want to find out.

Everything is wrong. Everything is wrong and scary and Emily doesn’t know what to do, which seems stupid because she’s the One! She sees weird visions and is told that the Devil’s Doorstep is open and she doesn’t quite know what that entails but she has an idea, an idea full of shadows roaming the streets of King Falls and teeth glinting in the dark. She’s the One! She’s the hero, this time! Shouldn’t she know what to do?

The world is on fire. The world is on fire. The world burns, and Emily doesn’t know where she left the water. 

Emily pulls into their secret place and everyone files out of the car, quiet and somber. It’s like they’re mourning. Emily doesn’t know what. Happiness? Laughter? Innocence? Ignorance? Jack Wright? 

Really, aren’t all those the same things, anyway?

Emily never met Jack, obviously. She didn’t know him. It seems that Emily only knows stories, and Jack is no different. Jack Wright is a two way mirror, with half of them on one side and half on the other. Emily isn’t sure if she’s seeing through him, seeing the world on the other side of Jack, or if she’s simply seeing her own reflection.

She will have to find out, she supposes. She shuts the car door quietly, because she feels like disturbing the silence is wrong.

Their secret place is small, just a little shack in a wooded area ( _not_ Perdition Wood) with a few cots in the corners and photocopies of _Death by Damnation_ scattered. Their apartment is likely gone, if the strange images in the corner of Emily’s mind are to be trusted, and the book has been taken, but they have everything they need.

Sammy and Lily are on their cot, whispering something, and Sammy switches the radio on, the one they always have set to 660.

Christmas music is playing, despite there being no one in the station to control it. No one should be there until six a.m., and that would be Lily’s shift, anyway. But Christmas music is playing. Specifically, “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)”. Emily watches Sammy Stevens crumble, and Lily wright soon after.

Emily sinks to the floor, not bothering to find a seat, and she sits there and listens to things fall down. Her mind is begging her to tune in, to listen closely to the music, to hear a hidden message, so she does not do that because she can’t trust her mind, anymore. To be fair, she hasn’t trusted her mind since her memories were Wrong when she returned from the rainbow lights. But now more than ever, with her One-ness acting up, she refuses to listen.

Ben sits down next to her. “Hey,” he says quietly, and she takes his hand and squeezes it. When she’s holding his hand, she doesn’t tremble as much.

“The radio is playing,” she replies.

“I don’t know how. I didn’t leave a tape in.”

“I think it’s best to just listen.”

Ben hums along, and Emily leans her head against his. She doesn’t know how long they sit there, a painting, Emily resting on Ben and Sammy and Lily resting on each other in the cot.

Eventually, Emily stands up. She kisses Ben on the forehead.

“Sammy,” she whispers, and the man looks up at her from where he and Lily are holding each other. If it weren’t for the circumstances, Emily would be proud of them for getting over their shit. If it weren’t for the circumstances. 

“Someone’s broadcasting from our tower,” Sammy says.

“Yeah,” she says, and she takes his free hand, and she runs her fingers through Lily’s hair. “This is really shitty,” she says, and Lily laughs hollowly. “I’m sorry I’m writing such a lousy story.”

“No,” Lily says, “you’re not. Well, this is lousy, but you’re not choosing to write it.”

It’s still written in Ben’s blue ink. “I know I didn’t. I’m sorry, though.”

Sammy squeezes her hand. “Not your fault.”

“Not Jack.” Emily squeezes back.

“But wasn’t it?” Lily asks, voice light and not matching her face. “That was him on our radio. He called in without a phone and he wanted to take us all to the Void with him.”

“You know,” Sammy says quietly, “I thought- I thought he was the reason the Void didn’t take me. Back when- you know.”

“He was,” Emily says, simply, because she knows. She doesn’t know how she knows, but she knows Jack Wright is the reason Sammy wasn’t able to lay down his life that day.

Sammy closes his eyes. “What is happening, Emily,” he says, less of a question than a plea. “What are we supposed to do with this?”

Emily doesn’t know. Emily doesn’t know. “Whatever we can,” she says, because what else can she say?

Emily Potter is the One and she is supposed to have the answers and she is smart and clever but she doesn’t know what she’s doing and doesn’t know how to save the world. She wants to learn and she wants to know but she doesn’t! She doesn’t!

“We’ll do what we can,” Sammy says. “We’re going to get him back. The real one.”

Lily keeps her eyes closed. Emily hopes that she doesn’t hear her voice quavering. “We will. I know we will.” She does not know that they will. She hopes, though.

The blue ink writes and writes and writes in a looping handwriting that is not her own. Is it Ben’s?

“Emily,” Lily says, “what did you see? When we needed to leave?”

Emily closes her eyes. “Cecil. The door. Shadows. It’s all alive, now. It’s all here- well, not here. We’re away. But in King Falls.”

Lily leans her head into Emily’s hand. “We have to fight it, don’t we,” she says, and it’s not a question.

“Yes,” Sammy answers. “I hope you have the Strength ready, Lily. I think we’re going to need it.”

“We are,” Emily says. “We will.”

Sammy smiles, and it’s not quite whole. “What about you, Em? The One? You ready to be a chosen one?”

No. “I hope so.”

The blue ink writes and writes.

Emily tears out the page. She has a better idea for this story. And maybe this one will have a happy ending.

**Here is the part where everyone was happy all the time and we were all**

**forgiven,**

**even though we didn’t deserve it.**

**-richard siken, litany in which certain things are crossed out**


End file.
